


Wanna Bet?

by bendingsignpost



Series: Tumblr Fic [35]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24984511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendingsignpost/pseuds/bendingsignpost
Summary: “I bet you... that I can get laid tonight before you can get a single kiss. We pick each other’s targets.”Dean bites his lip in the vain attempt to not burst out laughing. “Uh-huh,” he says. “Sure, Sammy. Someone single and actually attractive, sure.”“Deal?” Sam says. “A kiss on the mouth, no cheating.”Still pushing down a laugh, Dean offers his hand across the table. They shake. “Deal. Okay, who am I going for?”Sam smiles wider than the devil that once possessed him, and answers: “Cas.”
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Tumblr Fic [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/17495
Comments: 63
Kudos: 1476





	Wanna Bet?

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Спорим?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25088980) by [Wintersnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintersnow/pseuds/Wintersnow)



“If I’m the one driving, it’s the rules,” Sam insists, but Dean is nothing if not a contrary asshole. 

“You are not sticking the iPod thing into my car.” Dean crosses his arms on the wobbly bar table, leaning into the shift. “No way in hell.”

“It’s an adapter for my phone. The iPod thing was like a decade ago.”

“Don’t care,” Dean says. “You’re not doing it. I _will fall asleep on the road and die._ ”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Like you keep your eyes on the road half the time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sam says, now looking around the bar, presumably to see what the hell is taking Cas so long with the drinks, “it means... I’ll bet you for it. If I win, I get to listen to my podcasts in the Impala. And if you win, I’ll shut up about it.”

Normally, Dean would reject that out of hand, but Sam’s been harping on about this for ages. “Okay, deal. What’s the bet? Pool?”

Sadly, Sam is no longer dumb enough to take him up on that. Instead, he keeps looking around, craning his neck to see... something or other. “I bet you... that I can get laid tonight before you can get a single kiss. We pick each other’s targets.”

Dean bites his lip in the vain attempt to not burst out laughing. “Uh-huh,” he says. So that’s what Sammy’s looking for. “Sure. Someone single and actually attractive, sure.”

“Deal?” Sam says. “A kiss on the mouth, no cheating.”

Still pushing down a laugh, Dean offers his hand across the table. They shake. “Deal.”

“Okay, who am I going for?” Sam asks. 

Dean takes a good look around before giving Sam three options, less because he’s feeling generous, more because Sam circling back to ask for a back-up, actually single option would mess with Dean’s game. 

Looking at each of the indicated women, Sam nods along. “Okay, sounds good.”

“And for me?” Dean says. “Single and _attractive_ , remember?”

Sam smiles wider than the devil that once possessed him, and answers: “Cas.”

Dean’s mouth works. His brain does not. After too long a moment catching flies, Dean stammers, “That, that doesn’t, _he_ doesn’t, _no._ Doesn’t count.”

Sam holds up two fingers. “Single. Attractive. He counts. We shook on it.”

“Bet’s off,” Dean insists, but Sam’s already standing up. 

“Nope,” Sam says, grinning with a glee that borders on malice, because Cas is finally heading back, Cas could fucking hear them, holy fucking shit, _no_. 

“Sam-”

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam says, taking his beer from Cas before patting him on the back. “You two have fun.”

Brow furrowed, Cas blinks up at Sam, answering with a quizzical “We will?” before Sam fucking skips away. 

And because Cas has never fully understood anything about personal space, he still comes around the tiny table to hop up onto the stool next to Dean, instead of taking Sam’s. 

Dean swallows hard before Cas even passes him his drink. 

“How are we having fun?” Cas asks him, doing his classic head tilt and squint combo. “Is there another bar quiz?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, just, um. Just us. Two, two bros being bros.”

Eyes locked onto Dean’s at an uncomfortably close range, Cas nods slowly. “Then what’s Sam doing?”

“Getting laid,” Dean says with a sigh. 

Maybe podcasts won’t be so bad. They can’t _all_ be boring, right?

“Oh,” Cas says. He looks away, finally, the better to pick at the label on his beer bottle. “Dean, you know you don’t have to keep me company if you’d rather be finding someone to ‘hook up’ with.”

Dean’s pretty sure podcasts can’t suck as much as this, at least.

“No, no, I’m good,” Dean says, an absolute lie any way he slices it. 

Despite the music, despite the chatter and clamor of the bar, they sit in absolute silence.

“You liked the bar quiz?” Dean asks. 

Cas nods. “We would have won if the judges had accurate answers.”

“Yeah, well, mythology night would be pretty hit or miss, with us.”

They keep sitting, keep drinking. Eat nachos that don’t deserve to be eaten. Do a little people-watching. 

“Are you all right?” Cas asks, doing a lot of person-watching. 

“Fine,” Dean says. 

After a dozen more seconds of staring into Dean’s soul, Cas says, entirely without any transition: “You’ll never be as old as I am.”

Dean blinks and leans back. “Wasn’t aware we were having a competition there, buddy.”

Cas shakes his head. Points the neck of his beer toward where Sam’s chatting up a laughing woman who keeps touching his arm. “If you’re feeling too old to go out and do that. You’ll never be old to me, Dean.”

Dean’s stomach turns over in a way that has nothing to do with sub par nachos. “Uh. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

They finish their beers. Dean gets up and grabs the next round. He comes back with two beers in one hand and a plate of hopefully decent chicken wings in the other. This time, he’s the one who has to sit down way to close, but he knows from experience that switching to farther away would put a hurt dent in Cas’ expression. 

Getting back on that stool, Dean takes a moment to scan for Sam and then to curse his progress. 

Cas notices Dean looking, and frowns at Dean in response. “Are you sure you don’t-”

“Yeah, no, I’m not, y’know.” Dean waves his hand around. “Picking anyone up tonight.”

“All right,” Cas says, a bit of a sigh to the words. 

“What, do you want to?” Dean asks, his heart abruptly galloping. “Cause if you want a wingman or, or something...”

Looking into the middle distance, Cas shakes his head. “No.”

It’s a no, but it’s not a _no_. Not a brick wall kind of no. 

Dean pokes at it. “Do you ever want to?”

Cas looks at him. 

“Hook up,” Dean says. “Have some casual sex. Blow off some steam. Y’know. Have fun.”

Slowly, Cas’ stare travels from Dean’s face, across the bar, and back. “I’ve had the impulse,” Cas says, which is news. 

“Oh?” Dean says, ignoring how he just became consciously aware of his own dick, and his underwear, and the one against the other. 

Cas nods, very seriously, almost solemnly. “Yes. But I’ve realized that what I want and what I’d get would be very different. I know my own desires better than that now.”

“Deep,” Dean says. Sighs. “Yeah, I get that.”

Cas looks at him slantwise, out of the corner of his eyes. “Is that why you’re still here with me?”

Dean laughs, because fuck it. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it absolutely is.”

Cas smiles at him faintly, like a distant, setting sun. Just as warm. 

They eat the wings. When Dean complains about lack of napkins, Cas lays one hand over Dean’s forearm, and his sticky fingers turn clean. Cas just looks back at him with that half-hidden smile, and Dean shoves his shoulder against Cas’. 

It’s a good smile.

Dean ducks his head and drinks his beer. 

Cas keeps watching him, because that’s what Cas does. Keeps their shoulders pressed together, because that’s what Dean started. 

Dean swallows. 

Looks back at Cas. 

And, past him, sees Sam heading toward them, blonde in tow, both of them with that perky _about to go home and fuck_ vibe to their stride. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asks, entirely focused on Dean and the excruciatingly obvious panic that’s smacked him upside the head. 

“Hey, Dean,” Sam starts to say, and that’s when Stubborn meets Panic meets Dumbass. 

Just as Cas starts to turn on the bar stool, Dean slides off his. His crotch hits Cas’ hip. His hand lifts to permanent five o’clock shadow. Dean pulls and stoops and shuts his eyes to block out the startled confusion staring back at him. 

He smacks their mouths together. No teeth-on-teeth collision, but it ain’t soft. It’s nothing a first kiss should be, just deranged instinct freaking out in one concentrated direction. Cas’ mouth is a little open, going in, so it’s wetter than Dean had expected—hoped—but whatever mental lever that unclenches Dean’s jaw has gotten stuck. Dean’s closed mouth against Cas’ open one, bumping right up into the guy’s face. 

Sam coughs Awkwardly. 

Dean knows the feeling. 

Excruciatingly aware of his own too-wide eyes and too-hot face, Dean leans back. Stares at Sam in the desperate attempt to avoid looking at Cas. 

Sam coughs again. “Can I borrow the car, or should Tammy and I take an Uber?”

“Uber,” Dean rasps, absolutely vibrating. 

Tammy smiles at Dean gently, sympathetically. “My sister just came out too. It’s okay, you don’t have to be so nervous.”

“Right,” Dean says, because he’ll just go ahead and be on fire now. “Thanks.”

“Okay, bye!” says Tammy. 

Sam jerks his hand in a tiny wave, and they both head off in something way closer to a hurried retreat than a scurry toward sex. 

Throughout it all, Cas remains absolutely motionless. 

Dean... sits back on his stool. 

Drinks. 

Finishes his drink. 

Confronts the lack of unfinished chicken wings to fuss with. 

And finally looks at Cas. 

“What was that?” asks Cas. 

“What was what?” Dean asks, willing the entire world toward amnesia. Or time travel. Something.

Anything. 

“Dean,” Cas says, voice low and stern. 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Dean says. “That was.. that was dumb.”

He licks his lips, pure nerves, and it’s just typical, because he can only taste beer and bar food. 

Cas stares between Dean’s eyes and his mouth. 

“I said I’m sorry!” Dean repeats. 

Shoulders slumping, Cas sighs. “I don’t know how, but Sam put you up to this.”

Manfully resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands, Dean nods, eyes on his empty beer bottle. 

Cas sighs again. It’s even worse than before, because this one is mad as hell. Cas stands up, muttering, “I told him not to...”

The jammed gears in Dean’s brain rattle and shudder into motion, and he catches Cas by the shoulder before Cas can leave him. 

Or, maybe, _maybe_ , before Cas can go after Sam.

“You told Sam not to what?” Dean says. 

Cas looks down. 

“Cas, seriously, talk to me here.”

Slowly, mournfully, Cas looks up at him. “He said he could... get you to do that,” Cas says. Gestures at his own mouth. “I told him not to.”

“Because... you didn’t want _me_ to...?” Dean asks, hoping, waiting to be wrong. 

“I told him not to make you,” Cas says, and the annoyance there, the absolute fury... 

Thank fuck. 

“Cool,” Dean says, and he does it properly this time. Tugs Cas back toward him by a hand on his hip. Gets Cas standing up against the bar stool, standing between Dean’s legs. Holds Cas by the hair, a firm grip above his nape. Opens his mouth to Cas, and this time, learns how he tastes. 

“Oh,” says Cas, after. 

“So...” Dean says, licking his lips and staring at Cas’. “Do you ever want to hook up?” 

“Yes,” Cas answers. 

“Yes,” Dean agrees. 

Cas kisses him this time, seizing Dean by the head, and yeah, _yeah_. 

Dean _really_ won this bet. 

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous asked:  
> Kissing prompt: in a bar + a bet Pretty please!
> 
> As always, to see what else I'm working on, you can follow me on [tumblr here](http://bendingsignpost.tumblr.com/).


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